


Hidden Meanings.

by fearless_seas



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anger, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 14:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearless_seas/pseuds/fearless_seas
Summary: “I don’t believe you.”





	Hidden Meanings.

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by anonymous on my Tumblr @pieregasly! I hope you enjoy!

          If anything, Max feels anger. The boiling pressure, the one that pricks up the fibers of his skin and causes him to heat beneath the neck. _P2_. Sweating palms wring at the steering, he fastens his jaw and he cannot manage to brake the car quick enough to avoid the sign he knocks over. _P2_. For a moment, he stills and allows himself to enjoy the silence that harbors beneath the concave of his helmet. But eventually, he unbuckles, he jumps out of the car and his boots hit the track with a unsatisfying thud. There is something of the roar in the air, foreign, because he knows it is not his own. He thinks:

          _That is my crowd. Those are my cheers._

          His teeth press gently into the flesh on his inner cheek. He hesitates to flip up his visor and, yet, he can imagine it now, clear as day, the likeness: a broad, amplified smile spread over white teeth and little knot of wrinkles that forms at the corners of his eyes. He can’t help but believe it is a lovely picture, an alluring one. The cheeky half-smile and the rough way his fingers push the dark curls off of his forehead. Soft fingertips and warm brown eyes; everything shadowed and mischievous it appeared. He takes a moment, one to compose himself, eyes shut and ears lost to the world. The noise becoming minute and subtracted from his consciousness. 

          _My crowd._  

           Max’s brows furrow and his nose twitches. 

          _My cheers._  

         A frustrated breath escapes past his trap of front teeth. He closes his thoughts. To _him_. To his teammate. To Daniel who is standing meters away with his fists in the air and the same confidence in his bones from Monaco. He sighs, his shoulders deflate to the thought of him. The type of ideas he could get lost in any day. 

        _Our crowd._  

          Max opens his eyes. 

        _Our cheers._

          He flips his visor and Daniel is practically dancing in front of him as his hands fold to rip Max’s hips closer. His eyes are wide and a part of Max slowly becomes calmer, far more enamored with how light and breathless his atmosphere feels. A swallows bobs in his throat, Daniel’s fingers are pinching into the waist of his racing suit and his eyes are glazed under the film of up upturned visor. He senses his joy in the heavens, enough to draw a stretching sun onwards for the evening. 

          “We did it!”, he shouts and Max has to read his lips to understand what he is saying. 

         A weak grin manages to pry at the corners of his lip. He forgets for a moment that he was upset in the first place. _How could you ever with him?_

         “Congratulations, Dan,” Max’s beam is weak at best and he cannot hear himself over the roar in the stadium. But in truth, he is glad for him. Daniel’s eyes feel almost like honey, warm and thick enough to melt away all his imperfections.          

          A strange expression greets his mouth. “ **I don’t believe you** ,” he mouths amusedly and there is a stern moment of collective eye contact, long enough it felt to read his life story. There is a wink before Daniel carries himself away, squeezing Max’s wrist as he passes over. Max drifts a careful touch to the cusp of his wrist, the place where the pads of his fingers wrote a melody over the fragile veins. 

           He doesn’t forget it either. The touch. 

          They both can act as though this is all pretend. 

            _But you were there._  

           Max looks to him across the paddock: his helmet off and his matted curls clinging to the shell of his ear. He turns around before he leaves and there is something familiar in how he looks back to him just then: the delicate sense of his cheeks and shifting mouth. 

           And he sees the way he looks to him: like a precious artifact or something to tuck safely into the corner of his dresser drawer. Protected and locked like a secret. Max knows this because Daniel’s eyes paint him hidden meanings from across any distance. They say:

          _I’m proud of you, kid._

           And Max loves him for that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first time writing for this ship, hah. I hope you enjoyed :) If you did, please comment or at least kudos. Thank you very much! I am still taking requests over at @pieregasly on my Tumblr.


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